Free Bright Young Things by Scarlett Thomas Page B

talking. He’s scared by the idea of two girls talking in a room, but he doesn’t know why. Eventually he finds a box of six candles in the bureau in the sitting room.
    Back in the dark basement, Anne is singing something. It’s some pop song Jamie recognises; something he thought was marketed at teens and gay men. He lights one of the candles. He can just see Anne wiggling her small hips, still humming the bassline of the song. What the hell is the name of it? It’s by that American girl, the one in a gymslip. Jamie’s masturbated over pictures of her for God’s sake; you’d think he’d remember her name.
    Anne’s voice echoes. Jamie holds up the candle.
    ‘Are there any more of those?’ asks Paul.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Candles.’
    ‘Yes. There are six.’ Jamie takes the box out of his pocket to show them.
    ‘Cool,’ says Anne. ‘Can I have one?’
    ‘I don’t think we should use them all up,’ he says. ‘We might need them.’
    ‘For what?’ asks Bryn, taking a candle from the box and lighting it.
    When Jamie was about twelve, he went through a phase of reading what he called ‘island books’. The story was always basically the same: via a plane crash or a boating accident, a group of people would end up on an uninhabited island, having to survive against the odds. Someone would make a play for the role of leader – usually the coarsest, brashest person – but the heroic, quiet guy whom everyone respected would challenge him and ultimately lead everyone to victory over whatever obstacle was in the way.
    Jamie wishes this was more like that.
    Bryn’s gone on ahead with candle number two.
    ‘Hey, look at this,’ he calls.
    The other three walk to where he is, by the far wall. The two candles illuminate a single bed. It’s rather more basic than the beds upstairs. It has a metal frame, a thin, dirty mattress, and no sheets or pillows.
    ‘Nice guest room,’ says Anne, wrinkling her nose.
    ‘This is horrible,’ agrees Paul. ‘Let’s go back upstairs.’
    ‘It stinks of piss down here. What are you doing?’
    Jamie jumps. Emily has emerged from the shadows like a ghost. She’s obviously back from the toilet.
    Paul’s walking away from the small bed.
    ‘What are you doing?’ Bryn asks him.
    ‘Going back up,’ he says.
    The kitchen has become like a base camp, which is good. Jamie wants to suggest sealing the door or something, and formulating a defence strategy for when the kidnappers appear. All everyone else seems to want to do is just sit here. Well, everyone except Anne. She’s gone outside and Jamie can see her through the window. She’s just picked an apple, bitten into it once and thrown it away. Now she’s wandering towards the cliffs.
    ‘I’m just popping outside,’ he says to the others.
    They ignore him. Emily’s giving Thea a pep talk on the importance of not behaving like a victim. Thea’s pointing out that for once she is a victim – specifically a
kidnap
victim – and therefore has every right to act like one. Jamie gets up and walks out of the back door, noticing that no one even looks up. This upsets him. His mother always told him not to worry about what other people think, but he always does.
    Anne is sitting cross-legged on the grass.
    ‘Hello,’ he says, walking towards her.
    ‘Hey,’ she replies, without looking round.
    He sits down next to her.
    ‘You like the company then?’ he says.
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘That lot back there. Were they annoying you?’
    Anne shakes her head. ‘No. They’re all right.’
    ‘Are you feeling scared?’ he asks.
    ‘Yeah, terrified,’ says Anne sarcastically.
    ‘So . . . ?’
    She fiddles with her daisy chain. ‘What?’
    ‘What are you doing out here?’ Jamie asks.
    ‘Nothing. What about you?’
    ‘I’m, uh . . .’
    ‘They’re pissing
you
off, right?’
    ‘Not really,’ he says.
    ‘So you came out here to try to seduce me?’
    Jamie blushes. ‘Of course not! How can you say that?’
    Anne laughs. ‘I’m a